


I Choose

by naasad



Series: Prompts [3]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, The Flash - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Aromantic, Aromantic Wally West, Autistic Wally West implied as always, Dick is a dick but not on purpose, F/M, Graphic injuries, Implied Queerplatonic Relationship, Other, mentioned child abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-17
Updated: 2018-02-17
Packaged: 2019-03-20 10:52:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13716156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/naasad/pseuds/naasad
Summary: For the first twelve years of his life, Wally couldn't even tell he had a soulmate.





	I Choose

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [DickWally Soulmate AU Headcanons](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/358233) by Sqoiler. 



> This is an AU where your soulmate's injuries/bruises show up on your body, too.

It wasn't until weeks after Aunt Iris and Uncle Barry had adopted him that Wally realized his remaining bruises weren't normal. For one thing, Aunt I and Uncle B never hit him - never. That's the whole reason they'd taken him in the first place. For another, they didn't hurt, not like he knew they should. The pain didn't go any farther than skin deep.

"What are they?" he finally asked, one morning, holding out his arms.

Aunt Iris gave a sad smile. "They're your soulmate's." She absently rubbed a hand over her shoulder. Her marks never healed any faster than normal, despite the fact, and there wasn't much that could be done against Captain Cold.

Wally frowned at that and lowered his arms.

It wasn't much later he got his powers.

And it wasn't long after that he woke up screaming after his arm broke in his sleep - for the first time, and definitely not the last.

Kid Flash was a happy-go-lucky, cheery, punny sidekick, racing through the streets of Central City, endearing himself to heroes and Rogues alike.

Wally West was somber, saving every penny he ever earned.

Wally West, now grown and living on his own, dutifully set aside over half his weekly JLA food allowance, the money he told them was for emergencies, resigning himself once again to barely enough to keep combat ready. He was used to it. He groaned as he sat up and rotated his shoulder, still a sickly mess of yellow and purple. As he opened the fridge, he mentally tallied what would now be in his savings. Enough for a house? Not yet, but soon. A nice one, too, he mused. Something with a yard, trees, something with a spacious interior, a comfortable mattress, and a quality shower with a separate water heater. It wouldn't be perfect, but it would be safe, and that's all that mattered.

He flinched as he felt a new bruise blossom over his lower back.

Safe. He needed to get his soulmate safe. Wally - Wally chose this life, these wounds, in the name of saving people. His soulmate - his soulmate didn't. His soulmate hurt every night since they were children, and he had to get them out of there, them and whoever they were protecting, because that's the only reason Wally could think they would stay now that they were in their thirties.

Suddenly, the pain in his back was much sharper, and Wally cried out for the first time in years as something oozed down his skin. He sped to the bathroom and hiked his shirt up to see a shallow, bloody wound just to the right of his spine. A shallow wound that on his soulmate would be a gushing bullet hole. He trembled and started to run, anywhere, everywhere, he had to find them now.

But then another appeared.

And another.

And another.

Until Wally was passed out in his bathroom doorway from the pain.

When he woke, it was early, and a quick glance at his phone told him it was two days later. He rushed to the kitchen, guzzled down water and stale pizza, and ran as fast as he could to his best friend's apartment. "I need your help," he said.

Dick rubbed his face, waking up slowly. "Okay?"

Wally licked his lips and fidgeted. "I don't want you to think that I'm using you for your money or anything like that," he blurted, "but I need to find my soulmate, and you're the only one I know with the resources to do it."

"Why so urgent?" Dick asked, curiously, shooing Wally to the kitchen as he sat up in bed and reached for his laptop, wincing at the stretch.

Wally disappeared, then reappeared with food for the both of them in hand. "I'm pretty sure they're being abused. I've been saving to get them out of there since we were kids, but they're still...."

"Why now?"

"I don't - I don't have enough, but soon, and something happened." Wally turned and gently lifted his shirt, where he knew the scars would still show. They wouldn't disappear for another several weeks. "It's not the first time, but it is the worst."

Dick slammed the laptop shut, and scooted back, mouth pressed in a firm line.

"What's wrong?" Wally asked. He drew out a second into nearly an hour so he could piece together his friend's reaction. "You're mad. I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

Dick pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'm not mad."

"You look mad."

"I'm not mad!"

Wally's mouth closed with an audible snap.

Dick sighed, trying to control his breathing.

Wally waited a long moment. "Please," he said. "I'll do anything, just help me keep my soulmate safe. I can't do it by myself, I've tried. Every night, they get hurt nearly every night, and every night I run around the world looking for them. I save every penny I can spare for a place to keep them safe, please, Dick, just help me find them."

Dick took a deep breath and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, huffing and panting as he stood to his feet and lifted the hem of his shirt. Gingerly, he unwrapped the bandages beneath, showing the smattering of puckered holes held together by neat stitches, matching the scars on Wally's back exactly. "Just go," he snapped, letting his shirt fall, and collapsing back onto the bed.

"What?" Wally asked.

"Go!" Dick - no, this was Nightwing - Nightwing ordered. "You don't think of me that way, whether or not we're supposed to be soulmates, so just go. I don't need your pity."

Wally zipped around to the other side of the bed, and knelt down, gently rebandaging his friend's abdomen.

"Go," Dick begged.

Wally shook his head.

"Please. Please, just go," Dick wept. "I've been in love with you since I was thirteen, and I can't, Wally. I know you don't love me back."

Wally finished the bandages and pressed a kiss to his best friend's - his soulmate's - forehead. "If you let me, I will choose you."

Dick shook his head. "I'm sorry, Wally, I can't."

The next morning, Wally found a large sum of money in his account, with the note on the deposit "I thought the same about you".

And so he bought a house. Three bedrooms, two bathrooms, matresses to kill for, and showers to die for, an independent water heater, and a backyard measured in acres.

Dick helped him move in and fill it with furniture and appliances he'd never even heard of. When they were done, Wally gave him a key and the bronze ring of a Found. "If you let me, I will still choose you."

"I can't," Dick repeated, but he took the key.

Years later found Dick happily married to a Soulmate-less alien princess, playing with their daughter in Wally's backyard, while Kori sat with Wally in the living room. "You're his Soulmate," she said.

Wally nodded.

"But you don't love him."

"I love him." Wally shook his head. "But not in a way that's enough for him. If he would let me, I would still choose him every day of my life."

Kori hummed. "When I'm gone," she said, as if it was already decided, "I need you to choose him every day whether he lets you or not. Promise me."

"I promise," Wally vowed without hesitation.

A week later, Kori returned to Tamaran as their Queen and married the man she'd been betrothed to at birth.

A month after that, Dick and Mar'i moved to Central City to live with Wally.

A year after that, Dick hesitantly picked up the bronze ring from where it lay in Wally's sock drawer, and he slipped it on his right hand, instead of his left.

A decade after that, he stood in front of his best friend's grave and planted daffodils in the fresh dirt before standing, whispering "Thank you. Thank you for choosing me." And then he walked home, key weighing heavily in his pocket.

**Author's Note:**

> This did not go the direction I thought it would. Friendly reminder there are many different kinds of love, and all of them can be equally fierce.


End file.
